Let the Healing Begin
by NCCJFAN
Summary: After Embraceable You, what would it take to get Woody and Jordan back together? Set a year after she returned the ring. FINISHED.
1. Welcome Back, Woodster

**Disclaimer: Yeah, I'm still messing with Embraceable You. That episode still bothers me. Hopefully it will resolve itself before long.**

**Anyhow, I don't own Crossing Jordan or anything associated with it. It all belongs to NBC and Tim Kring. However, if he needs a vacation and wants to let me be in charge while he's gone, I'd be happy to do so…**

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* * *

****Chapter One**

**Welcome Back, Woodster**

In retrospect, the transfer was a good idea.

It had kept him in Boston, but allowed him some space between _it_ and her. _It_ being the ring, all it symbolized, and _her_ refusal to accept it.

Her being Jordan Marie Cavanaugh.

Shortly after Jordan had given him back his friendship ring and Woody had told her that he was through chasing her…that it was over, his ego couldn't take it anymore….there was homicide vacancy at the 22nd precinct.

He had thought about requesting the transfer for two days…he did wait two days to see if she would call him or come by and talk to him…maybe work things out between them. But she didn't.

He applied for the transfer and it went through. It was only supposed to be a temporary change. Walt, the detective he was filling in for, had back surgery and would be out for about six months. He figured six months would be enough time for both of them to put things in perspective. See if there really was any way to salvage a friendship.

Six months had somehow turned into a year. It had been a whole year since he had been back at the 19th precinct. But now Walt had come back to work and Woody had to return to the 19th…back to that homicide division…back to his office he shared with Framus….and back to her morgue.

A year. He adjusted his tie as he walked back to his old office. A lot could happen in a year. Not that he hadn't seen her during that time. . But those occasions had been few and far between. And blessedly brief and distant. The 22nd worked with another morgue. He only had seen her the very few times when the lines between the 19th and 22nd blurred.

"Woodster!"called out Framus, catching sight of him as he entered their small, shared office. "Welcome home!" She slapped the younger detective on the back. "How was life in the 22nd?"

Woody caught himself before Framus's back slap knocked him into his desk. "Good….Roz…good. Not as hectic as it is here, but the break was nice."

"Well, put your running shoes on. You're going to need them. And believe me, I know shoes. We've had two homicide calls this morning. Which do you want…the one by the wharf or the one downtown?

Thinking Jordan would probably be at the one downtown near the morgue, he chose the one farther away. "I'll go with the wharf. I always enjoyed the morning at the beach."

"Yeah, the stench of a decaying body over the stench of decaying fish. Yuck. Here's the address." She handed him a slip of paper. "I'm off to the one downtown. If I'm lucky, Buggles will be the answering ME." She slipped on her jacket and was out the door.

Woody shook his head. Some things hadn't changed in a year's time. Some things never would.

* * *

Nigel caught his call. Woody had been momentarily surprised. In the back of his mind, he believed that if Roz had requested Bug, by default, he'd end up dealing with Jordan first thing in the morning with precious little coffee in his system to counter act her presence.

"Woody," Nigel said, approaching the detective. "How nice to see you again. Heard they kept you on the outer fringe for a year. Good to have you back."

Woody shook the tall man's hand. "Good to be back, Nige. Let me show you what we have…" Woody spent the better part of the next hour or so with the criminalist, going over the evidence that had been collected. "Do you have an estimated TOD?" he asked.

"It looks like fourteen hours ago," Nigel replied, keeping his eyes focused on the body. "I'll know more once I get back and an autopsy is done."

"Who'll be doing the autopsy?" Woody assumed he needed to mentally prepare himself to see her one more time – that she would be doing the procedure.

"Either Sydney or Dr. Macy."

Woody looked at Nigel for a moment. The question was in his eyes, he knew. He was just hesitant to voice it. Or maybe, if he was honest, just a little afraid.

"If you're wondering about Jordan, no, she won't be doing the autopsy. She's got her hands full right now. No more new cases for a while."

"Nige? You ready?" the morgue van driver called out.

"Yeah, be right there." Nigel shut his ME case and walked to the van, calling back over his shoulder. "I'll call you when I have the reports done, Woody." He climbed in the van and shut the door.

Woody held up his hand to indicate he had heard and to acknowledge Nigel's departure.

_Her hands are full…_just what did Nigel mean by that statement? He didn't know.

He wasn't sure if he wanted to know what was in Jordan's hands at all. He told himself he no longer cared what trouble she had gotten herself into.

And if he said it enough times, he was sure he'd believe it. No, he did believe it. With his whole heart

Woody sighed and returned to his car to drive back to the 19th. He had work to do…and then he'd go over to the morgue and see what was up with the autopsy.

And maybe he could find out what was in Jordan's hands that was keeping her so busy. Maybe it was a tough case…one that was consuming all her time.

Maybe it was her paperwork…maybe Macy wasn't letting her take on any more new cases until her paperwork was caught up. She was notorious for not doing it, and he was just as notorious for cracking the whip to get it done.

Maybe…maybe she had heard he was back and didn't want to see him. That would be the best reason. He didn't want to see her and she didn't want to see him. Then they both would know it was truly over between them. No relationship. No friendship. Neither one of them needed each other. He certainly didn't need her. He had lived a whole year without her.

And was a better man because of it.


	2. The Ties that Bind

**Chapter Two**

**The Ties that Bind**

Jordan rolled out of her bed and stretched. It was early…four in the morning…but she had work to do. Grabbing her robe and stuffing her feet in a pair of ratty terrycloth slippers, she made her way out of her bedroom.

Her days always started early now. Even if she worked nights or the late afternoon shift at the morgue, her days started around four. It was hard getting used to the schedule at first. But now she was accustomed to it…mostly. There were some days she was so tired she could hardly put one foot in front of the other. She'd manage to get some rest then…she'd sneak off and catch a few hours of sleep and then come back.

But now she had to focus on what she had to do…and was eternally grateful for her medical background as she padded down the hall and pushed open the door to her father's bedroom. Max was asleep…thankfully. Jordan glanced at her father…and put her hand to his forehead. No fever. She was constantly worried about infection right now during his treatments. She gently checked his IVs and administered the appropriate medications through them, then sat down to wait for him to wake up.

Cancer. Max had cancer. The odyssey he had gone one when he left his daughter alone for two years was to find a cure. He had been told his disease was inoperable. And it was spreading. So he had taken off to Mexico to see if there truly was a cure out there.

There wasn't. And last year he had returned home, weak and sick, and nearly dead. Jordan had pushed the latest medical treatments on him, even though she knew then, as she did now, that it was probably too little too late.

She was going to lose him.

But not without a fight.

She had moved back home to be with her father and take care of him.…although she had not given up her apartment. When the world got too much for her….her job too overwhelming….caring for her father too exhausting….she would retreat to Pearle Street for a few hours. That apartment was still her solace…her get away. It renewed spirits because that was the only place she could really let her hair down and be herself without anyone criticizing anything she did. She had made it uniquely her own. It equipped her to leave and fight the battle once again to prolong Max's life.

And they had won a few battles at the beginning. The cancer had stopped spreading…he responded to treatment. While Jordan wasn't hopeful for a cure, she was expecting to add a year or two more to his life…she'd anticipated having him around a little longer.

That wasn't to be. The scans the oncologists did last month showed the growths had returned with a vengeance…killing off healthy cells as quickly as they could. It was spreading…rapidly. Hospice had been called in. It was just a matter of time.

Time Jordan didn't want to waste. She had taken a semi-sabbatical from work…coming in only a few hours each day to stay up-to-date on cases and mainly handle trace and routine autopsies. Nothing heavy-duty. No murders. Nothing suspicious. If anything got the least wonky, she willingly turned it over to Garret, Sydney, or Bug.

Her father was her top priority right now. She watched as his eyelids flickered open. "Good morning," she whispered softly. "How are you feeling, Dad?"

"Like I've been hit by a truck…but other than that, just fine," Max replied with an attempted grin. Only Jordan knew how much he was suffering …. Had suffered. She had been there every minute.

"What would you like for breakfast?"

"Just toast and an egg….some juice. No coffee, though. I don't think I could handle that."

"Will you be okay by yourself while I go cook it, or do you want me to wait for Jennie to come?" Jennie was the hospice nurse.

"I'll be fine. Go ahead. And make sure you fix you something to eat, too. I can't have you getting sick on me."

Jordan smiled and kissed her father's forehead before descending the stairs. Her father had always taken care of her. Now it was her turn to take care of him. Not a task she had looked forward to undertaking because it signaled Max's mortality.

But it was a job she undertook with great love. It would be these final acts of compassion on her part that would continue to bind and heal the ties of their relationship. She was all he had…and Jordan wanted to be there for her father…let him know however convoluted their past was, all was forgiven and it was time to move past it.

She got out the toaster and pans and got to work. She'd cook him breakfast, get dressed, and wait for Jennie to come in. Then she'd go to the morgue for half a day, come home, do laundry, and cook supper.

Not very exciting, but it's what she needed to do right now. It was what she wanted to do right now.

It was what she had to do right now.

* * *

Woody didn't make it to the morgue until after lunch. He retraced the familiar route to the sixth floor, making his way to Nigel's office. "Woodrow," he heard Nigel say.

"Nigel…have you got the reports ready?"

"I have the prelims. Dr. Macy is doing your autopsy."

"Is he done yet?"

"I think he just finished. He'll still have to do dictation, but he can at least tell you something."

Woody nodded and left Nigel's office, walking over to the chief ME's. He couldn't help but notice her office was dark and locked. Her name was on the board…so she was still working there…but for as long as he had known Jordan Cavanaugh, he had never heard of her taking a day off…or a vacation….So for her office to be dark and locked on a weekday in the middle of the afternoon meant either she was on forced leave…..

Or her hands were very full of something indeed.


	3. She's Hurting

**Chapter Three**

**She's Hurting**

He had been back at the 19th for a month now and hadn't seen her. Not once. The rational voice in his head kept telling him that this was a good thing. If he didn't see her, he wouldn't think about her. And if he didn't think about her, he wouldn't remember how close they came to having a relationship. How close they came to really falling in love.

The irrational part of him wanted to see her. Not to try to jump-start a dead relationship, but just to look at her. Make sure she was alright. Find out why she wasn't working as many hours. Was she ill? Was she back in school? He had asked about her. No one was very forthcoming. Garret had said she was busy with things outside the morgue. He didn't elaborate, but he had peaked Woody's interest.

Nigel avoided the subject all together. When Woody asked the criminalist the same questions he had Garret, the detective came up with less than nothing. "She has her hands full right now," was all Nigel said.

"Is she in any kind of trouble?" Woody responded.

Nigel paused a minute. "No. For once in her life, Jordan's not in any kind of trouble. She just….needs some time off and she's had the comp. days built up for a long time. She still works, but half days and sometimes odd hours. Mainly trace and standard autopsies."

"And you can't tell me what's going on with her?"

Again Nigel paused. "That's really up to Jordan. She's just….got a lot on her plate at the present and a lot going on in her life. She's playing the cards close to her chest right now…when she's ready, she'll probably tell you what's happening and why she's having to do this."

"But she's okay…health-wise?"

"Jordan's fine, Woody. Honest. Tired…but fine. I saw her this morning and told her you were back at the 19th. She said to tell you welcome home."

So now Woody didn't know what to make of the situation. He didn't know why he even really cared, except for the fact she was the best damn ME he had ever worked with and in the past, she was often the key for solving his cases quickly and efficiently. He kept telling himself that was why he was concerned about her. Professional reasons only.

His heart couldn't rationalize it that easily. But broken hearts take time to heal. Maybe a year wasn't enough. Maybe he needed longer. So, maybe her work situation was for the best. If he didn't see her….his heart would continue to mend. It would heal.

But her dark, locked office kept calling him back. A part of him needed to know why. And for the life of him, he couldn't convince himself he didn't care any longer.

* * *

She was in her office. Finally, he caught a glimpse of her…nearly six weeks after he began working back at the 19th. He had to drop off some information for Dr. Macy and decided to run that errand first thing in the morning. It was nearly 7:30…and if she came in early and only worked a half a day, he surmised he would be able to see her.

He had assumed correctly.

She was behind her desk, doing dictation, her back to him. He propped himself against her office door frame and waited for her to finish and click the little recording device off. As far as he could tell, she hadn't changed. "Good morning," he said, when she turned around.

He could tell he startled her. The surprise showed in her eyes. "Woody…" her voice trailed off.

The awkwardness between the two of them was tangible. Both of them wanted to make the first move, but they were each waiting on the other to start. "Woody…" she finally began again.

Only to hear herself be cut off again by him. "It's okay, Jordan," he said, pulling away from her door and walking over to where she was at. "I just came by to see how you were doing. I guess I'm still allowed to care?" It was a question, not a statement.

"Woody…" Jordan felt like her tongue was tied in a thousand knots. What do you say to the man you loved, but yet had been unable to acknowledge that to him…because he wouldn't let you? "It's good to have you back," she finished, when her tongue began to cooperate with her brain again. She ignored his question about caring altogether.

"It's good to be back. How have you been?"

"Me? I'm fine."

"Nigel and Macy told me you were only working half-days and odd hours. What gives?"

She had to give him credit. He was straight to the point. Nervously tucking a stray curl behind her ear, she lowered her eyes for a moment. "I…I…have the time built up. You know me… never took a vacation, a sick day, a day off….and I just needed some time to regroup."

"I don't think so," Woody said, reaching out and lifting her head with his forefinger and thumb so that she would look him in the eyes again. "That's not the whole truth, Jordan. You forget….I know you. What's wrong?"

Jordan took a deep breath. Max would never know how much the months of caring for him had worn on her. Not that she regretted or resented taking care of her father…not for one minute. And Nigel and Garret were aware of Max's state of health, but other than just being supportive of her and her work schedule, there had been nothing they could do.

The entire burden of caring for Max fell squarely on Jordan's shoulders. Shoulders that were becoming increasingly tired and overburdened as Max grew sicker and sicker. Woody had no idea how much she wanted to tell him exactly what was going on….he of all people would understand. His mother had died of cancer. He had been young when it happened, but he remembered well the emotional turmoil a long, painful, death caused.

But she couldn't share her burden with him…not because she didn't want to, but because Max had asked her not to…not to tell anyone he was dying. "The last thing I want and need is a house full of teary-eyed, over-sympathetic people or a bunch of vultures waiting around to watch me breathe my last breath. I'll let the folks know who need to know about my condition…but I'll do it on my terms and when I'm ready. Not before."

What was Jordan supposed to do? She promised her father she wouldn't speak of his condition to anyone. "Nothing," she finally choked out. "Honestly. Nothing, Woody. I just needed some time off."

But he felt her tremble slightly beneath his fingers. No…there was something else wrong. He knew it. His detective instinct was kicking in overdrive now. "Why won't you tell me what's the matter?"

"I can't," she whispered, then covered her mouth with her fingers at her slip-up.

"So there is something wrong?" he asked, his voice taking on a more authoritarian tone.

She lowered her eyes and stepped away from him. "You need to leave now. We've said all we need to say. You told me before you transferred to the 22nd that it was over between us and you were no longer interested in me. I don't think that has changed any. So if there is something wrong, it's no concern of yours." She stepped around him and grabbed her lab coat on the way out to trace.

Woody stood there for a moment. Yeah…there was something wrong alright. He could tell by what she didn't say…how she held her body. He wanted to know what it was…_Why bother?_ The rational side of his brain said. _It is over between you two. Concentrate on what you're doing now…who you're seeing. It's obvious that she doesn't want anything to do with you or for you to have anything to do with her. Let go…let her go._

But his heart was beating a different tune…he could tell by the slump her shoulders she was tired…more tired than she usually got just working. A frown lines creased his forehead. One thing remained the same about Woody. He was a boy scout at heart…and administering care to those who were hurting was second nature to him.

And Jordan was hurting. He didn't know why…but he'd find out sooner or later. Sooner, preferably.


	4. I'm Your Man

**Chapter Four**

Jordan made her way back into trace…away from Woody. She leaned against the wall and let all the emotions wash over her that she felt when she saw him again. She assumed that after nearly a year apart, she would have handled things better.

She assumed wrong. It was as if he had never left….as if it were only yesterday he had told her he was tired of chasing her…and cut her off and left before she could apologize for how wrong she had been…and tell him that she loved him. She had lost a good man that day. She had lost her heart, too. He still had it, whether he realized it or not. But if he truly was through with her, he didn't need to know that. Just like he couldn't know about Max's cancer…at least until her father was ready to tell him.

Pulling herself together, she picked up the clipboard with the report she was working on. With a little luck and some concentration, she'd be finished by noon and could go home. Cook her father dinner…finish the laundry…and maybe get to bed early.

* * *

He had watched her leave…and watched her slump against the wall of trace for a few minutes. Woody knew she was trying to pull herself together and go on…like she had hundreds of times before when the deck was stacked against her.

_I can't_. That's what she had said. I can't tell you what is wrong. She wasn't in any trouble…and she was fine, or at least she appeared so. So what could it be?

Woody had to have some answers. And he needed them now. Jordan wasn't going to be forthcoming, so he'd switch tactics. With a determined look on his face, he strode into Nigel's office.

"Nige…I need to talk to you."

"What is it, Woody?"

"It's about Jordan. I saw her this morning."

"Oh…" The look on the criminalist's face clouded for a moment.

"What's wrong? She said she can't tell me…maybe you can?'

"I can't, Woody. Really. It's not my place. Jordan will tell you when she is able to … I'm sure."

"I can't wait that long…" Woody surprised himself at those words. For a man that was definitely out of a relationship with Jordan Cavanaugh, he was acting like a person who was in the middle of one.

"Woody…I can't."

"Look, Nige…I don't know if you've noticed it or not, but whatever it is that is bothering Jordan is wearing her down. She looks positively….overwhelmed. Something I've never seen in her before. And I've never known her to take this much time off from work…ever. What's wrong?"

Nigel nodded. In truth, he had been worried about Jordan for a while now, as Max was growing sicker and sicker. More and more of the burden of caring for her father was resting on her shoulders alone…and she had no one to turn to…at least not anyone that had been through similar circumstances. Woody had been…he had watched a parent die from cancer. He could at least empathize with her better than anyone else could.

And he knew that Jordan's feelings for the detective were still running deep. He wasn't sure what it would help by telling Woody about Max…and he knew Jordan would probably ream him out over his spilling the secret, but he felt Woody needed to know for Jordan's sake….He got up from his desk and shut the door.

"Okay…She's going to kill me for this. Right now, only I know and Garret knows what's going on in her life. But that's not her fault. Max asked her not to tell anyone…he'd tell the people that needed to know when he saw fit. She had to tell us because I was going to be the one picking up most of her cases while she was on short time and Garret had to know because he is the boss…"

Woody gave Nigel a puzzled look. He wasn't following the Brit's reasoning. "Max?" he asked. "He's back?"

"Yeah… he came back about a year ago…"

"And what does he have to do with all of this?" Woody shook his head…he really wasn't following Nigel's train of reasoning.

"It's all about Max, Woody. He has cancer. The doctors have given him less than six months to live.

* * *

He had gone back to his office in a daze. That explained everything. Her overwhelmed look….her slumped shoulders…and the reason she wouldn't tell him herself. If she had promised her father that she wouldn't tell anyone about the cancer, then she would keep her word. She wouldn't tell a soul.

But he knew now, thanks to Nigel.

Jordan was going to lose her father, too. As a person who had lost both of his parents at a young age, his heart went out to her.

As someone that loved her, all he wanted to do was take away some of the hurt.

Nigel had told Woody before the detective left the morgue that the only reason he was breaking his promise to Jordan and telling Max's secret is that he and Garret were incredibly worried about Jordan…the burden she was bearing by herself. She needed someone to talk to.

She needed Woody, whether she would admit it or not.

And now he had to let her know that her secret was out … at least to him. And it was safe. He would tell no one.

But he would be there for her to talk to.

So after he got off work that night, he found himself at Max's house…ringing the doorbell…waiting on her to answer. When she did cautiously open the door, she looked incredulous. "Woody?" she asked, not really believing her eyes.

"Yeah. It's me. Can I come in?"

"Ummm, the house is kind of a mess."

"I didn't come to see the house. I came to see you."

"I don't know…I mean, I think everything that needed to be said between us has already been said. You aren't chasing me anymore…it's over….what else is there?"

''Please….just let me in for a few minutes and then I promise I'll leave without a scene." He tried to push the door open a little wider. To his amazement, she relented and let him in. He followed her into the kitchen, where she was cleaning up after cooking dinner.

There was no way to ease into this…whether he told her straight up or little by little, she was going to be angry…angry that Nigel had told Max's secret…angry that of all people, he knew. And probably resentful that of all people, he could help her the most.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he finally asked, after a long, quiet moment had passed.

"Tell you what?"

"About Max. I know about his cancer, Jordan. You could have told me."

Jordan drew in a shocked breath. "How'd you find out…."

"Nigel told me. He's really worried about you, Jordan. So am I."

"There's nothing to worry about. I'm fine."

"Look…you're talking to someone that knows where you're coming from…"

"Dad doesn't want anyone to know until he's ready to tell them."

"Then he should have thought that one through more carefully. What were you supposed to do? Who were you supposed to talk to?"

She set her chin stubbornly. "I have to honor his request, Woody."

"And in order to take care of him, you have to take care of yourself. So why didn't you tell me?"

"Why is it so important to you? You said it was over between us…why should you care about what is going on in my life any longer?"

"I said it … any hope of a romantic relationship … was over….I never said I stopped caring…or that I wasn't concerned."

"And you had a funny way of showing it."

Woody sighed. They could argue like this for hours. But the fact was, she needed someone to lean on…and he was that person. He knew it, and somewhere deep down inside, she knew it, too. "Look, Jordan," he said softly, coming over to where she was at…standing with her back to him. "I understand the pain you're in. I've felt it myself. I know how it hurts. I don't want you to go through this alone. You don't need to. Despite what has happened between us, I would like to be there for you." He gently cupped her shoulders with his hands and ran them down her arms.

And felt her sag and then crumple against him. Turning her around, he hugged her tightly as he waited for the tears to come…but to his amazement … nothing. No tears….just the emotions of her inner struggle against them. "You don't have to be so strong all the time, Jordan," he said softly against her hair. "It's just me…"

"And Dad will know if I've been crying and that will upset him," she said pulling away from Woody and going over to stand on the other side of the room. Taking a deep breath, she pushed down the feeling of warmth and comfort she had experienced in his arms…instead she said, "I think you need to go now. I appreciate all that you've said…and what you've tried to do….but….it's just not good for me to see you right now…Until Dad decides who he's going to tell and when….I've got to be strong for him. I really do appreciate it…and maybe…when the circumstances change…."

Woody felt as if she had slapped him. But the look in her honey-colored eyes reflected pure anguish and pain. He realized she was doing her best to honor her father's wishes.

But she was also hurting herself. He wondered if she was aware of that. Stifling a sigh, he said, "Okay…I understand… but if you need me, Jordan…anytime…day or night…someone to talk to …. Scream at….someone to be there when you breakdown…I'm your man."


	5. The One Thing She Needs

**Chapter Five**

**The One Thing She Needs**

Jordan closed the door of her apartment behind her and leaned against it. She needed a few hours to herself…to rest…to sleep….to regroup. It had not been a good day…and that was putting it mildly.

Max was growing worse. During the year he had been back in Boston, his fight with cancer had its ups and downs. But during the last six weeks, the downward spiral had accelerated. The doctors had done everything they knew to do. His options for treatments had run out. Jordan was doing everything she possibly could to keep him comfortable.

That's all that was left for her to do…that, and watch her father slowly fade away. It was wearing on her. She was trying to stay strong for his sake…trying to ignore the painful stress headaches she now suffered, but a part of her died a little each day along with her father. Max was all she had left in this world…and now he was leaving her, too.

She had arranged with Jennie for Max to have around the clock hospice nurses for the next 36-hours. She needed to get away….to find some kind of firm footing in the shifting sands of her world. She had gone into the morgue and after work, she came to her apartment. Wearily pulling away from the door, she decided she would take a hot shower, change into her pajamas, and go to sleep – even if it was the middle of the day. Her body was craving uninterrupted sleep that would refresh it and her soul.

At least that was her plan. A knock on the door sidetracked her intentions.

* * *

Woody stood in front of the big, red door of her Pearle Street apartment for a long time before knocking. He had followed her when she left the morgue.

Nigel had called him before Jordan had left work. Jordan had talked to him before she gone for the day…told him that she may need some extended family leave due to Max's condition. They both had been expecting this…and of course, the time off was no problem, Nigel just needed to know that she wouldn't be around to carry her work load.

But for once Nigel had seen Jordan look completely vulnerable…almost frail. And he felt completely helpless about it. He didn't know what to do, other than hug her tightly and ask her if she wanted to talk about it. She had shook her head and left quickly, just telling him she would let him know soon about the time off.

That's when Nigel had called Woody. Nigel felt Jordan might open up to the detective because of their history…and the fact that Nigel knew Jordan still had deep feelings for the detective. So he had asked Woody to follow Jordan and make sure she was alright.

And that's why he was at her door, but hesitant to knock…he wasn't sure what her reaction would be now, given their last encounter at Max's house. Almost reluctantly, he tapped on the door. He heard her soft "Just a minute," and then the door swung open.

"Woody?" How did he know where she was at?

Woody ran his eyes over her, viewing her critically. Nigel was right. She was about at the point of collapse, whether she knew it or not. "May I come in?"

She swung the door open a little wider to let him through, then shut and locked it behind him. "I know this sounds trite, but what are you doing here? I thought I told you that it was better right now that we not see each other."

Honesty was always the best policy with Jordan. "Nigel called me. He's worried about you. So am I."

Self-consciously she ran a hand down the front of her shirt and jeans. "I'm…doing okay. I just needed sometime to ….get away. Get some sleep. It's hard to do that at home now. So hospice is arranging for a nurse to stay with dad for the next 36 hours so I can get some rest."

Woody nodded. At least she knew when she had reached her limits. That was new to Jordan Cavanaugh. Of course, watching a parent die changes you forever. But Nigel had been right…she was looking frail…concern gripped his gut and he gave up the fight. He originally just planned to check and make sure she was going to be okay and then go back to work. Now he was down for the count.

"Max isn't doing well, is he, Jo?"

She turned her back to him so he couldn't see her cry. After all, he had said he was not longer interested in her. She had no desire to allow him to see her that vulnerable…..or needy.

"No…" she managed to get out. "Not at all…"

He was officially out for the count now. Walking over to her and running his hands down her arms, he could feel her crying. He turned her around and pulled her to him. "Cry Jordan. That's what you need to do. It's okay…I'm here…I'll take care of you." His arms tightened as he felt her cries turn to sobs. Without thinking twice, he picked her up and took her to the couch, holding her in his lap, until the sobs had subsided. Then he reached for a tissue off the coffee table, gently wiping her eyes, noting that even though her crying had eased, she was still holding onto him tightly, making no effort to move away. He tightened his arms around her again in response. If there was one thing she needed right now, it was to know someone was there for _her_ the same way she was taking care of Max.

Woody knew that was what she needed. Jordan had been caring for Max now for months on her own, pouring out all her energies, attention, and compassion on her father…something Woody knew she wanted to do, but it was leaving her empty and tired. Jordan was taking care of Max, but no one had been taking care of Jordan. Max hadn't allowed that because he didn't want his daughter telling anyone of his condition. He felt his arms protectively tighten around her again.

He knew. He'd take care of her…give her what she needed. And right now she needed to know she wasn't alone and he was there for her….in any capacity she needed him.

She had finally quieted down almost completely, and with a soft sigh had settled her head on his shoulder, still not making any effort to move away.

She didn't want to. Just his mere presence was giving her more comfort and strength than she had known in months. She didn't know when she'd ever feel this safe again.

"Hey," he softly, finally bringing her out of her reverie. "Why don't you go take a shower and then get in that nap that I know you need? Meanwhile, I run down to the grocery store and get something to cook for dinner. How does that sound?"

_How does that sound?_ She thought. _More wonderful than you could possibly imagine_…"Don't you have to work?" she asked hesitantly. She didn't want to get her hopes built up and then have them let down.

"I really think they'll let me have the afternoon off. I've put in some serious overtime the last couple of weeks on the Stewart case." He smiled at her and Jordan felt her heart jump. It was a full Woody smile – dimples and all. "So…"

"That sounds really good….that is if you want to…"

He brushed the side of her head with his lips. "Good. Now get that shower and try to grab a nap. I'll take your key so you won't have to get up and let me back in the apartment."

* * *

She was sound asleep when he returned, curled up on the couch in an afghan. She had showered and let her hair dry by itself, because it was curling riotously over her shoulders. He smiled softly at her and began to put away the groceries.

He had called the precinct to get the afternoon off and then he had called Nigel. He knew the criminalist was as worried about Jordan as he was. Nigel had sounded relieved when Woody told him that Jordan was resting. He also revealed to Woody that during the last month or so Jordan had begun suffering from painful migraines, probably brought on by the stress of caring for her father. The rest and dinner would probably do her good. Nigel knew she wasn't getting enough sleep. He doubted if she was taking care of herself in any other area, either.

The headaches concerned Woody. With all she was going through, she didn't need anything else. He had a feeling that the headaches were a result of Jordan having to keep everything bottled up inside…not being able to talk to anyone.

And not just about Max. He probably had a lot to do with those headaches, too. At least that's what Nigel had indicated in their conversation. When Woody mentioned he was cooking dinner for her, there had been a long pause on the other end of the phone. "Be careful with her, Woody," he had warned. "I mean it."

Woody had been somewhat taken aback at Nigel's protective behavior. He knew Jordan and the criminalist had a long history of friendship. He doubted it had moved to anything beyond that, or Nigel would be at her apartment himself. But he had never seen the Brit so protective of her. "I will be," he answered.

"No…I mean be really careful. She's missed you….she's tried to move on, but she's grieved for you nearly as much as she has for Max. You never let her finish what she wanted to say to you before you left her office that night of her birthday. You said you only wanted to be friends, and she's tried to respect that. But I can tell you for a fact, that her feelings for you run deeper than friendship. Jordan doesn't need a broken heart on top of everything else she's going through. So if you're only going to be her friend, be very careful that you don't lead her on to believe anything else. If you want something more…then be just as careful with her…"

Woody had swallowed hard, then. Was she really grieving for him…and what they could have had? What had she wanted to tell him that night….after they had solved the case of the pregnant nun? Jordan needed him to take care of her now…and he thought she was beginning to realize that. But they also needed to clear the air between the two of them…there was a lot more left unsaid than he had realized. If they could clear up any hard feelings between the two of them… then maybe she would feel some better. He knew he would. They could at least begin healing their hearts together.

He sighed. There was a lot they needed to talk about before her 36-hour "leave" was up.


	6. Dinner Conversation

**Chapter Six**

**Dinner Conversation**

"Jordan…Jordan…Jo?" Woody said, gently trying to shake her awake after he had cooked dinner.

"Hmmmmm," was her soft reply, burying her face deeper in her pillow.

"Are you hungry?"

"Woody?" So it wasn't a dream. He was there. She had really been afraid it was only her imagination.

"Are you hungry?" he repeated. She nodded and began to sit up, brushing her hair out of her eyes. He helped her off the couch and to the kitchen. "This looks wonderful, but you went to so much trouble…."

"No trouble…you need to keep your strength up." He watched her as she ate…and made sure her wine glass was filled. Finally when dinner was over, he asked, "Do you want to talk about it?"

She gave him a puzzled look. "About what?"

"Your dad."

She shook her head. "No…not really. He just doesn't have long left…and I'm just trying to deal with it and understand what he wants me to do."

"Then can we talk about something else?"

"What?"

"Us."

Jordan drew in a sharp breath. In her mind, however much she still wanted it, there was no _us_ any longer. Woody had said his peace. He wanted to remain friends and friends only. She could accept that, even if she didn't believe it. She could deal with it, even though she knew that she still loved him. But her emotions were fragile enough as it was…what little of her there was left, she wanted to keep in tact. If he rejected her again, she didn't think her fragile emotional state could take it. "Please, Woody. Can we do it some other time…later? Just, not now…not here…"

"I think we need to talk," he replied gently. "I think it would make you feel better to clear the air."

"I think you made yourself perfectly clear…You want to be friends. You were tired of chasing me…you weren't going to any longer…you just want to be friends. I understand."

"How do you feel about it, though? I never stopped to ask you that night in your office."

"No, you didn't. You just said what you wanted to and left."

"Then how do you feel?"

"Does it matter? I mean really, does it? I understand why you feel the way you do, I led you on too many years, letting you think that there might be something there and then would back off when I got scared…but I do appreciate your friendship…and everything you've done for me…" she lowered her eyes and her voice.

He took her hand, rubbing soft circles on the back of it. "But how long do you think we can keep this up? The friendship thing? How do you feel about that?"

Taking a deep breath, she said, "I…I…I don't know. When you came into my office the night of my birthday, I was ready to tell you that I wanted a relationship with you. That I was ready to overcome any doubts I had…but I don't blame you, Woody. You've had a lot of patience with me and I just waited too long. And then you left….and Dad came home…and …and…" her voice trailed off as tears became a concern again and she looked down at her plate.

Woody reached out and gently lifted her head so that she was looking in his eyes. "I wish I would have let you talk that night, Jo. I'm not sure where this puts 'us' exactly…I have a feeling that is something that only time will tell. But I do wish with my whole heart that I would have known about your father from the beginning…from the time he came back to Boston. I wish I could have been there for you."

She shook her head. "It's okay, Woody. I don't want any guilt-trip compassion…nor do I expect anything other than friendship from you."

"Can I ask you something else?" He waited until she had slowly nodded her head. "Why didn't you come after me that night I tried to give you the ring? Why didn't you say something? Why didn't you stop me?"

"You wouldn't let me get a word in edgewise that night, you needed to say what was on your mind. So I figured I didn't matter to you any longer…then you left the 19th…then Dad…then…" her voice trailed off again as she stared down at her plate. "But we're still friends? Right?"

"Is it too late for anything else? Could we be more than friends?"

Her head snapped up as her heart rate increased exponentially. But her reality…what she had facing her in the weeks and days ahead was also on her mind. "Now is not the time, Woody. I can't…we can't make a decision like that right now…Dad's just getting worse and worse…I'm too tired to think straight…and I've started having these awful migraine headaches. The doctor thinks they're due to the stress I'm under…" She got up and put her plate in the sink, continuing speaking from there. "But I don't know which is worse. The pain in my head or the pain in my heart from losing Dad…and from losing you."

Woody had followed her to the sink. Gently turning her to him, he just held her as he felt the tears begin to come again…as Jordan was still just beginning to grieve her father. He hugged her close for a long moment, finally kissing the top of her head, and saying, "Let me take you to bed, Jordan. I understand what you're feeling…I don't want to leave you alone tonight…or for the next however many hours we have left. You need someone….you need me."

And she let him. She let him lead her to her bed where He tucked her in and got in beside her, just holding her the rest of the night…letting her cry herself out…then keeping her close as she slept the rest of the hours away.

It was the first good night's sleep she had gotten in months. And for the first time in weeks, she woke without a pounding in her head.


	7. Daddy's Girl

**Chapter Seven**

**Daddy's Girl**

Woody never knew whether to curse or bless cell phones.

On one hand, they can be nearly too conveniently inconvenient. He had a lot of wonderful moments interrupted by the ringing of one of those devices.

On the other hand, they had shared a wealth of information with him. He hoped this was one of those times, as he grabbed his ringing cell phone early one Saturday morning. Her phone number was on the ID. He hoped it wasn't bad news.

* * *

"I don't know what he has to tell you…I just know he said he needed to see you," Jordan told him when she answered his knock at Max's back door. "He just told me to call you and ask you to come over as soon as you could."

When he answered Jordan's phone call early this morning, she had relayed to him the information that Max wanted to see him. Jordan had told her father that Woody was back at the 19th precinct. Max had decided he needed to talk to Woody. He didn't tell Jordan what it was about. "Just tell him…I really need to see him….soon," he had managed to get out. Max didn't talk much any longer. The pain was beginning to be unbearable even with a morphine drip. Jordan knew the end wasn't far off.

They climbed the stairs of Jordan's childhood home together and she led Woody into Max's bedroom…a tangle of IV lines and hook ups to machines all centered around a hospital bed that bore the shell of a man that Woody had known. Max looked as if he had shrunk a good five to six inches in height…and was painfully, painfully thin. Woody now knew why Max didn't want any of his friends to see him this way. He was only a balding, shadow of his former self. No man would want to be remembered this way…not a man like Max, anyway.

"Dad….Dad….," Jordan gently whispered to her father. "Woody's here. Do you feel like talking?"

Max opened his eyes with great effort. "Woody…good to see you again. Have a seat." He motioned to a chair beside his bed. Jordan sat on the side of the bed beside her father. Max glanced over at her. "What I need to say to Woody, I need to say to him privately, Jordan."

"You want me to leave?" She nearly sounded hurt.

Max smiled gently at his daughter. "This is a man-to-man…We'll be through in a minute and you can sit with me all you like."

She nodded and left the room, closing the door behind her.

* * *

"How are you, Woody?" Max asked, extended his hand to the detective.

"I'm good, thank you, sir. I am so sorry about…"

Max cut him off. "That's okay. So am I…sorry I have this mess…this disease. Sorry for what it's doing to me. More sorry for what it's doing to Jordan."

Woody nodded. "She has a hard time with it sometimes."

"I know. She let it slip that she had told you. I didn't mind you knowing…I just didn't want a bunch of people hanging out at the house making it even harder on her….that's why I said I'd tell the people I wanted to know…a little at the time. But I was glad she told you…it gave her someone to talk to."

"I'm happy to be here for her."

Max looked at Woody closely and narrowed his eyes. "We've been through a lot, Hoyt. You and me. Malden and all that crap. I came to know you pretty well. And I like what I know. You're a solid, dependable, good man. They don't make many like you anymore."

Woody didn't know quite what to say. "Thank you, sir," he replied, looking down at his hands.

"And I don't know what happened between you and Jordan. I know at one time I would have bet everything I had that you loved her. And I know she loves you…it just takes Jordan longer to admit things like that. It's her nature. She doesn't trust easily. And I guess she gets it honest."

"I still care for your daughter, Mr. Cavanaugh."

"But do you love her?"

He nodded again. "I do…and have told her as much…but she's got a lot on her right now…." His voice trailed off.

Max sighed a sigh of great relief. "Good. I wasn't sure. Jordan said you two had some silly fight and decided to remain friends. Friends are well and good, but anyone with a pair of eyes can tell you two were cut out to be more than just friends. That makes what I'm about to say easier."

"I'm sorry…I'm not following you…"

Max took a deep breath and hit the morphine drip button again. "It's like this, Woody. Jordan has always been as independent as hell. She had to be. She grew up in a one-parent household and that one parent was a cop. She was on her on… by herself…probably more than she needed to be. It taught her to be strong…but unfortunately it also taught her she didn't need to necessarily depend on anyone…the only person she could depend on was herself."

Wood nodded in agreement. That was Jordan alright. Fiercely independent and the strongest woman he had ever known.

"However, Woody….in the days that are ahead for her….she's going to need someone, whether she will admit it or not…someone she can depend on…someone that will help her get over losing me. We never had a lot, and what I'm leaving behind will become hers…the house, the car…some investments….but we had each other, and despite our disagreements in the past, Jordan and I have loved each other deeply. We were all each other had sometimes.

She's my little girl, Woody. No matter how old she gets, she will always be my baby. What I'm asking of you is …would you take care of her after I'm gone? You're the only person I can trust because of the way you are…honest, compassionate, caring. I can't see you hurting her…ever. I won't be here and I need to go to my Maker with the assurance that you will keep an eye on her until she heals from my passing. I'm not sure how long that will take….but could you promise me you'll do that….just make sure she eats….and rests…and doesn't grieve herself to death?" Max extended his hand again.

And Woody willingly took it. "I promise I'll look after her. You have my word."

"Good. Now I can rest…really rest. I've worried about her so much…the concern has kind of kept me here, until I could make sure she was taken care of. One day, maybe you'll understand how I feel, Woody…when you become a dad…"

Woody smiled briefly. He hadn't pictured himself in that role in a very long time.

"You will….and you'll be a great one. And by the way….if taking care of Jordan turns into a life time commitment on your part, I want you to know now you have my blessing.." Max's eyes begin to flutter shut…he was worn out from all the talking. Woody had to lean over to catch the last words before the sick man fell asleep. "Just take care of my baby….she's Daddy's girl."


	8. Out of the Dark

**Chapter Eight**

**Out of the Dark**

Two weeks later, Max was passed away.

Jordan had known it was imminent. She was a doctor. She could read the signs. But she was also his daughter…and she desperately wanted to ignore them, thinking that if they were ignored, maybe…just maybe they would go away and her father wouldn't leave her.

Woody knew what was happening. Max had his hospice nurse, Jennie, call him at the precinct. Max wanted Woody in place when the time came. Woody began showing up at the Cavanaugh residence frequently…trying to get a read on things. The day before Max died, he simply moved in and didn't leave.

As a result, he was there when it happened….when Max crossed the bar. It happened quietly and with the dignity the man had wanted. Jordan was sitting on the bed by his side…what ever they had needed to say to each other had long been said. She was simply holding his hand and telling him she loved him. Woody stood behind her. Max had opened his eyes one last time to tell Jordan good-bye and to give Woody a knowing glance. Woody had merely nodded and put one hand on Jordan's shoulder. Max smiled…and went home.

Jordan cried and stayed with her father for a while…before the mortuary people came to retrieve the body. At that point, she turned. Woody held his arms open and she went into them. And stayed there for a long time.

The next days passed in a blur. Max had made most of his own arrangements. There was blessedly little left for Jordan to do, other than plan his wake. It would be a simple affair, held at the Pogue. Despite the fact the bar had been sold, the new owner was a close friend who insisted on having it there.

Woody stayed near by Jordan at this time, remembering his promise to Max. But even if those promises hadn't been made, he would still have been there…because he wanted to be. Jordan would wonder later just how he knew when she needed to sit down…get something to drink…go outside for some air…or just needed to be held. She didn't question it at the time, but later it became apparent his actions were the result of someone that had been in the same situation and knew just what to do to make her as comfortable as possible.

Which was what he was working on now. After four days of exhausting herself, seeing to the details of the visitation, funeral, and wake, Jordan was tired. She had eaten little and slept even less. Woody noticed the tell-tale sign of her hand going to her temple. A migraine, he'd bet any money. Finally, after the last person had left Max's house, he took her hand. "Let's get out of here…take you somewhere that you can get some rest."

She sighed. "That would be nice. I was thinking about going back to my apartment tonight….I don't think I could handle another night here…with it being so quiet."

Woody thought for a second, and then carefully couched his next words. He didn't want her to get the wrong idea…but he did want her to get some rest. "I'm not so sure that would be the best idea, Jo."

"Why?"

"If people want to see you…and you're not here, the next place they'll try is your apartment. You could end up still not getting any rest. Why don't you come back to my place tonight to sleep? You can relax…I can take care of you…and your headache will go away."

"I don't know, Woody…that's an awful lot of trouble…"

"It's no trouble, Jordan."

She had finally agreed. "I just feel so numb, Woody," she had told him as he helped her into the car. "I don't know what to do next…what's expected of me…"

"That's normal. The best advice I can give you is don't make any major decisions for the next several months. You need to give yourself time to begin to heal from this…"

"Does that include us?" she had asked in a small voice, looking down at the floorboard of his car.

He reached across the car seat then and gently lifted her eyes to meet his. "Yes. That does include us. But I'll be here…I'm not going anywhere…and you won't be alone."

They had gone back to his apartment, where she had showered and changed into a pair of his old sweat pants and a t-shirt. For Woody, there was something irresistibly feminine about Jordan in his clothes. They seemed to nearly swallow her whole…she was so tiny. It emphasized the fragility of her right now… "God, I never knew you were this big," she had joked.

"No…you're just too small. Now come here and eat some supper."

He had gotten her to eat a little and he put her in his bed. Then he sat down to think. He knew what he had promised Max…and he would be here for Jordan … take care of her. And in order for him to do that, he needed to begin to move her past this…out of this dark place she had been for over a year dealing with Max's sickness and death…and into the light.

Just how was the question.

* * *

Woody just watched her for a while…was there when she needed him…and quite often when she wasn't aware that she did. Her life slowly began to get back to normal. She was working full-time again – regular hours. It was keeping her busy and keeping her from dwelling too much on what had happened to her.

They talked. She had decided to rent out Max's house. "It's really too big for just me… and I would never have time for the yard. Besides, it was sort of built with families in mind…and I don't have one….and…don't know when or if I ever will…and…" her voice had trailed off then.

Which had brought them in a round about way back to them. If there was a "them." They were still sort of tip-toeing around the issue months after Max had died. The same awkwardness they felt when Woody returned from the 22nd was back. The elephant in the room. Would they move beyond friendship, or would they remain as they were?

He saw it in her eyes sometimes when they were alone…just talking. The question hung there between them…and it needed to be answered. They had not parted on good terms when he left to go to the 22nd. And she needed to know that what he was going to do was not out of pity. It was not out of a promise he made to Max.

It was out of love.


	9. Let the Healing Begin

**Chapter Nine**

**Let the Healing Begin**

Woody knew if he pushed too fast, too soon – like he did with the ring – it would blow up in his face again. So anything big was out…anything major to get her attention and show her how much he cared was not going to work. He wasn't sure how to even begin the conversation…and then was genuinely surprised when it happened all on its own.

They had taken a walk at lunch, during the work week – through the park. It was somewhat solitary and secluded at this time of day. They had just started out on the foot path when Jordan spoke first. "I've been meaning to tell you, thanks."

"For what?" he countered, not following her thoughts.

"For being there for me when Dad passed away. I would have gone completely crazy without you."

Woody chuckled. "You've nearly went crazy in the past_ with_ me there," he replied, remembering everything they had been through together.

Jordan had chuckled along with him. "Yeah…I guess we just took for granted that we would always be there for each other…you and me…and then…then suddenly we weren't." He could hear the fall in her voice at the last words.

The ring. There it was again. He nodded. "And then the ring….got in the way."

They walked along in silence for a minute, each lost in their own thoughts. "It wasn't the ring, Woody," she finally said, quietly. "It was what the ring _could mean_….it just intensified your doubts and my fears. That's what got in the way."

"So how are you now?"

She stopped and bent over to tie her shoelace. "From what? Dad's death or the ring?"

"Both." He had to know.

"I'll never get over Daddy's death. He'll always be a part of me and I will always miss him. But I know that I have to move beyond that and live my life. As far as _we _are concerned…" her voice trailed off as her cell phone rang. Woody's rang right behind hers. They both knew what that meant. A homicide.

It was three days before they got to finish the conversation.

* * *

It was there he found her, three days later, in her office, propped up against the desk, rubbing her temples. She was suffering from another headache… "Hey.." he said, pausing at the door of her office. "Have you taken anything for that?"

"No… I need a refill on my meds and the doctor won't call it back in until I go back for a check up…which I don't have time to do…because I'm too busy…" Her eyes closed as she massaged her temples.

Gently pulling her hands down, he replaced her fingers with his own…rubbing soothing circles on her aching head. Almost against her will she began to feel herself relax and the pain begin to ease. "Better?" he asked when he noticed her shoulders sag.

"Yeah…much…"she opened her eyes to find him much closer than she thought he would be…his lips just a breath from hers. "Has….has…anyone ever told you you're good with your hands?" she asked, with a smirk…trying to defuse the sexual tension that she could feel rising in the room.

"Not lately….and come to think of it….you never have," he rejoined, still keeping his lips close to hers. He could feel the tension rise again…and he stepped away. He wasn't pushing too hard too fast this time.

She blinked. She didn't expect that. She expected he would kiss her. As a matter of fact, she was kind of looking forward to it. "And whose fault is that?" she asked turning from him to pick up some reports on the side of her desk.

"It wasn't for lack of trying on my part." He crossed his arms and stared her down…cocking an eyebrow to ease the tension and show her he was teasing.

She nodded. She was the reason. She knew it. "Sorry," she said. "I know…I didn't…"

"It's okay, Jordan," he interrupted with a soft voice. "That was a long time ago. This is now." He moved closer to her. "Why…do you _want_ me to kiss you?"

She turned quickly then and once again found him closer than she anticipated. He reached out and tilted her head up so she was looking him in the eyes…and she found herself trapped in his blue gaze. "Do you?' he quietly repeated. "Tell me…tell me the truth."

Jordan felt her heart begin to pound. "What if I do?" she asked. The words were hard to get out…her lips were finding it hard to cooperate with her brain.

"Then…I'd do this…" He gently covered her lips with his…kissing her slowly…waiting until she opened her mouth for him to explore it. Which he did…thoroughly, but in no particular hurry…waiting to hear her breathing increase and feel her response.

When he did, he gradually broke the kiss, but pulled her close and kept her there for a long moment. Finally, in a gruffer voice than he expected, he asked. "How's your headache?"

"Headache?"

"Yeah…you said your head was hurting."

"It's not anymore…" she was still trying to get her breathing back to normal. "Woody?"

"What, Jordan?"

"Do it again."

She had asked…so he'd comply. He chuckled as his lips found hers again.

888888888888888888888888888888888888888

Healing doesn't happen in a day…nor in a week…nor in a month…and sometimes not even a year. And some things never heal.

The scar on Jordan's heart that she suffered from her father's death would always be there…it would never really heal. Like she said, she would learn to live with it, but she would never really get over it. That was to be expected.

It took a few more starts and stops for their hearts to recover from the damage they had inflicted on each other. Woody took it one day at a time and tried not to push her.

And gradually the relationship went forward. Slowly…one step at a time…until one evening, when she was at his apartment, she told him she didn't want to go home that night. _She_ wanted to stay.

He felt like all the fireworks that Boston heralded on the Fourth of July went off in his chest. "Would you hold me?" she had asked….and he complied.

He had held her all night.

And when the morning sun found its way through the bedroom windows of his apartment, she was still there wrapped in his arms…gazing up in his eyes as he loved her one more time.

Everything wasn't healed yet…but they had come a long way.


End file.
